


[style]

by pipecleanerFlowers



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:38:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipecleanerFlowers/pseuds/pipecleanerFlowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[style]

**Author's Note:**

> tswift songs for best inspo

[we never go out of style]

</3

Rio makes sure Ryoga’s asleep before slipping out the door, running down the hallways of their apartment complex in her old Vans that she still regrets buying because they were never her style (but they’re quieter than her usual heels and it’s dark out and no one will notice). The sconces along the walls light the way to the elevator and she presses it, too many times, impatiently. Her D-Gazer is clutched in her palm, and she probably needs to clean the screen again, but the silk of her night-slip isn’t all that good for it so she leaves it be.

Finally, the elevator opens with a _ding_ and she rushes in, pressing the button for the lobby and then the button so the doors will shut faster.

Vector’s already outside, engine of a convertible humming, and she already knows it’s not his (because they’re never his, not even the bright yellow Mustang he picked her up in last time). This time, she can make out the navy blue colour in faint moonlight. The hood’s down, and his fingers are tapping against the steering wheel, bright red hair standing out even in the darkness.

“Hey,” she greets, breathless as she hops in, not bothering to use the door.

Vector’s eyes slide over her. “No jacket?” he asks, reaching over to pick at her thin straps.

“It’s summer,” Rio explains shortly, “and you’re still in that stupid leather jacket.”

He just shrugs and sets off, pulling out of the complex and heading toward the nearest highway.

Rio’s hair whips in the wind as Vector slams the gas on the ramp. She sheds the Vans as he swerves into the fast lane, pulling her legs up to her chest, not worrying about how short the slip is. It doesn’t matter when Vector’s eyes have always been on anything but her. She’s pulling her hair into a ponytail when he breaks the silence of wind rushing past.

“So, what was it this time?” he asks, conversationally, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Obviously it does if you resorted to calling me.”

Rio missed him. Maybe that was a mistake. He probably already knows. “It’s a nice night,” she says instead, tilting her head back to watch the sky, the stars that appear one by one as they head farther away from the city.

He hums in agreement, and why wouldn’t he when the sky is clear, the breeze is cool, the air is warm, and they’re together.

(But they’ve never really been. Together.)

The coast glows in the moonlight and the city looks like the bright utopia it claims to be from miles away when Rio peers past Vector to see it. He’s grown his hair out since last time, bangs reaching past his nose now, and she wonders how long it’d be if he let her straighten it flat down his back. He keeps shoving it back with his hand, as if it’s in the way, and Rio wonders why he doesn’t just lift the hood back up.

(Because she keeps glancing at the stars, because he knows she’d feel trapped otherwise.)

“Was it Nasch?”

Ryoga. He still didn’t get it. “Not… necessarily,” she answers, her composure never faltering (but he can see right through her, and it’s her own pride at this point that keeps the act going).

“What’d he say?”

“I’m worth more,” she says, before she can change her mind about the truth.

“Of course you are. That fanservice douche can go fuck himself.”

She knows, but she doesn’t know how to back out of something that’s been on-and-off for three years. Especially when he’s Ryoga’s friend (even if Ryoga never liked their relationship, he still likes them apart, and Rio knows her choice was stupid, but Ryoga hated the idea of Vector more, and Thomas was so nice to her back then and--).

“You threw out the promise ring?”

“Yeah.” Sometime during one of their breakups, because Thomas always relapsed, always gave up, and she stopped caring enough to hurl it into the river that splits Heartland City in two. At the time it felt poetic, like ripping a picture apart and setting it aflame, but now it just feels overly melodramatic.

“Good. Those are fucking dumb.”

Rio holds out her hand in front of her, looks down at the finger she used to wear it on. She should feel empty, like something’s missing, but nothing is (not when she never wanted it in the first place).

“He told me I make him a better person.”

She can see Vector roll his eyes. “Bullshit. Types like that can’t change.”

“You would know.”

“At least I’m honest about it.”

He pulls over to a rest point that overlooks Heartland City, over the water, and in other circumstances it might have meant something. The water sparkles, the breeze is chilly now, and when Vector gets out of the car, he takes off his leather jacket and throws it at her.

Rio steps back into the Vans she hates and slips her arms into the sleeves of his jacket before getting out too, hearing the crunch of gravel beneath her feet. She can hear Vector sigh and a moment later he’s digging a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

“Want one?”

“No thanks.”

A couple years ago, she would’ve.

“Suit yourself.”

Vector lights it up and stows the box and lighter back in his pocket before taking a drag. His dull eyes reflect the city in a whole.

“Who’s the girl on your Instagram?” Rio asks, and it’s not important (they never are), but it’s still bothering her.

“Which one?” Vector asks, smoke seeping out from his lips.

“Grey hair, glasses?” It’s the latest picture, and she’s dressed in some maid outfit and a bell collar, and Rio wants to hate her, with the Valencia filter and twinkling eyes. But it’s hard to hate strangers. It’s even harder to hate Vector.

Vector smirks, but it’s almost ironic. “Just some girl. Got the hot librarian thing going for her, at least.”

“Ever gonna keep one?”

“The only one who matters is always taken.”

A couple years ago, she might have blushed too. “Too bad,” she says, almost sympathetic (but she knows better and won’t go there).

“Are you gonna break it off with him permanently, this time?”

It’s been three days since the last one, and he hasn’t called or texted yet. She doesn’t plan on doing it herself. He doesn’t deserve her “salvation” this time.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Don’t waste another second on him.”

Rio almost smiles. “It’s weird, hearing you agree with Ryoga.”

He taps off the ash from his cigarette and frowns. “Anyone would, when you’re not happy.”

Rio steps up to the railing, leaning against it and looking down over the craggy cliff into the dark water. Her slip feels too short, now, with the breeze, but she doesn’t mind when Vector’s still staring off into the distance, somewhere she can’t see, at something she’s never been able to understand.

“Date me.”

It pierces the darkness, makes Rio’s shoulders hunch up as she turns to look back at him.

“What?”

“You fucking heard me.”

His eyes are on her, for the first time she she got into the car he doesn’t own. Gaze sharp, and she feels transparent, like he’s sliced off all her layers of lies and pride and makeup.

“I…”

He’s stomping out his cigarette now, blowing out the last of his smoke, and Rio wonders if he’s angry at her (for always calling him, and no one else).

“Okay,” she says, and it almost disappears on the breeze, but she’s more sure about this than she ever was about anything since she started dating Thomas.

“Okay,” Vector echoes back, and he pulls his D-Gazer out of his jacket that Rio’s still wearing.

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking mine off too.”

**Author's Note:**

> ty hika for helping me end this!! <3
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!


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